


Coming Home

by Glitteringworlds



Category: Tales of the Abyss
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-24
Updated: 2014-08-24
Packaged: 2018-02-14 11:29:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2190003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glitteringworlds/pseuds/Glitteringworlds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Luke is a duke. But sometimes she is a duchess. To Guy, she is always Luke, and they want to make her feel at home no matter what (genderfluid Luke + genderqueer Guy)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coming Home

**Author's Note:**

> I love the idea of genderfluid Luke being mostly a guy, but sometimes a girl, and I wanted to write something dealing with that and with growing up in a fairly restrictive environment. I use switch between he/him and she/her for Luke based on how he is presenting at the time. I also wrote this with the idea of genderqueer Guy and trans girl Florian in mind, which is why Guy uses they/them pronouns.

The first time had been Natalia’s dress, when Luke was 13. Guy had found her (and Luke was her during those times, they had learned that very quickly) in her room, in the middle of smoothing out the wrinkles and folds of the blue fabric in a vain attempt to make the thing lie comfortably across her chest. When she had seen Guy, she had frozen, catching their eye and then quickly looking away, eyes locked on her bare feet.

Guy had quietly shut the door behind themself, hoping that the soft click of the latch, and Guy’s gentle smile, would be enough to get Luke to unclench her hands from the worried fists at her side. But she hadn’t moved, had stayed rigid and silent, as if she was trying to erase Guy from the room. Or erase herself.

So Guy had spoken first. “You know, you can’t be much of a princess if you don’t have princess shoes.”

Luke had looked up at them, at first blank, and then frowning a bit, angry eyebrows giving her a stern expression.

“I’m not a princess.” Luke had crossed her arms, her early attempts at getting the dress to lay flat forgotten. “Natalia is the princess. I’m a duchess.”

And that had been that. Most of the time, he was still a duke, still strolled around the confines of the house in his usual outfit, returning the “Master Luke,” of the maids with a careless nod. Except sometimes she was Luke, the duchess (Guy had asked her if she preferred to go by something else doing those times, but she had firmly rejected the notion). Occasionally they would last for a week or two, usually only a few days. She would spend those days even more sullen than usual when she was forced to leave the safety, the privacy, of her room, forced to slouch through the halls in clothes that suddenly seemed all wrong.

Guy would always be sure to sneak into her room those nights, bringing a hairbrush and, if possible, a spare dress from one of the maids. They usually couldn’t manage to sneak anything of Natalia’s away, though sometimes they went out and bought something sparkly and new for Luke, since that always seemed to get the best reaction.

They would sit on Luke’s bed, brushing her hair and twisting it into long lovely braids to pin up on her head. Luke admired them in the mirror, turnin this way and that, but was always careful to take them out before going to sleep, however much Guy could see that it pained her to do so. She explained why to Guy after a few times.

“I know if you leave braids in for too long,” she said, brushing her fingers through her hair, “it makes your hair wavy. I don’t want… I don’t want father to…” Guy had held up a hand, smiling casually and cutting her off, before changing the subject to the most recent move she had learned in training.

Guy tried not to show how worrisome it was, hearing Luke’s concern at her father’s theoretical reaction. She had a hard enough time being locked up inside the manor. On those days, it was like she was locked inside something even smaller. Some quiet room inside herself, where she hid from the things she didn’t know how to face. The people she didn’t know how to tell.

Luke was 15 when she asked whether or not Guy was afraid of her.

She was sitting on the floor, the skirts of her new dress spread in a perfect circle, while Guy sat up on the windowsill, leaning back and looking out at the stars over the castle rooftops.

“Guy…” She trailed off, and Guy let her think for a bit, knowing it was best not to push Luke at times like that.

“Guy, when I’m… when I wear dresses and stuff, do you. Are you… scared of me? Like you are with other… with women?”

Guy had frowned into the darkness for a moment, trying to think of the right thing to say. In truth, they were more comfortable around Luke than around other women, though they were fairly certain that was mostly because of how much time they spent at her side. But the question wasn’t really about that.

“Well,” they began, turning in to face Luke with a smile, “let’s just say that I can manage to braid your hair, but only as long as you stay facing away from me. Turn around and I might just go sprawling out of the window.”

Luke had grinned, and Guy had sighed, and that had been the end of the conversation.

And then everything else had happened. Akzeriuth had happened. Luke’s death had… Luke had disappeared with Hod.

When he had come back two years later, it hadn’t felt real. The group had never been willing to accept Luke’s death, but… things weren’t supposed to be true just because you wished for them hard enough. 

So part of Guy had stayed behind in that dark field, waiting, unsure.

It wasn’t until Daath, a few weeks later, that they had been able to really accept it. The laughter from Luke’s room had been loud enough to draw them up the steps, a wry smile on their face, but it had been the people inside that set something inside Guy’s heart right again.

Luke was sitting on the bed, holding Mieu out in front of her as she stared in amusement at him. Anise and Florian sat on either side, both girls in the middle of a weaving a long red plait of Luke’s hair. They had stopped in their work, however, to laugh at the tiny puffs of fire that Mieu was hiccuping out every few seconds.

When they heard the door open, all four turned to stare at Guy. Anise and Florian both turned questioningly to Luke, slightly worried, or at very least, hesitant, at the intrusion. But Luke only smiled, and Mieu hiccuped again, and Guy giggled, and the brief tension was broken.

Guy shut the door behind them, letting the click of the latch speak for itself.

Luke had come home.


End file.
